


The Tiny Divide

by RAW_SYNTH3TICA



Category: The Lone Ranger (2013)
Genre: Biracial, Humor, M/M, Male Slash, Native American Character, Sensuality, Slash if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 01:45:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RAW_SYNTH3TICA/pseuds/RAW_SYNTH3TICA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where John and Tonto are different, they can agree on Some things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tiny Divide

**Author's Note:**

> ALL IS FICTIONAL & NOT MINE  
> enjoy~

He peered about beneath his hat to the land painted crimson and streaked black beyond the moving sands, dry copper granules rustling beneath Silver’s hooves as they pushed onward into Tonto’s tribal encampment which was a day’s ride north, John held unto the uncomfortable end of the saddle his body clung to instead of properly holding unto Tonto’s waist. He knew the man would not at all mind being held unto for safety’s sake, but John had a mouthful of trouble swallowing when Silver lurched forward suddenly and John nearly slid off the saddle blankets he designated for himself at the rear. 

Tonto grabbed his wrist and slapped it on his own waist and said, “Spirit horse would hate me getting you hurt.” 

He remembered then of his partner mentioning that Silver was in fact the Spirit Horse and that he was chosen to awaken by chance when he had, not before scaring Tonto half to death and getting a rock to the face to prove death was still Tonto’s unwelcome guest. 

John sat rigidly against Tonto, his cheeks heating against the danged crow’s tail which batted his nose and eyes, he blew at the stiff feathers as if they would move a tad to the side so he could concentrate on Not touching his partner, “I can’t get hurt, remember?” 

Tonto shook his head which made the feathers brush under John’s nose, the ranger heaved forward in a sneeze but righted himself after feeling himself curl over the tracker’s naked back, “Small accidents can still do Spirit-Walker in.” 

“Taking advice from a homeless local who has a crow for company and a horse for transportation is very normal,” John said to himself, he scooted back away from the saddle seat and made sure not to touch his chin against Tonto’s shoulder as he craned his neck about to look past the crow’s wings, he mumbled in annoyance, “The seeds and paint do you no favors in your questionable sanity, Tonto.” 

“Why wake from graves? Why dressed in too many clothes when we all look the same underneath? Why ask stupid questions?” the ranger jumped at his companion’s words since they seemed as if to pour from Tonto, they were the kinds he could not answer, just the types he could laugh about if he was more calm, “Why ask too many stupid questions, Kee-Mo-Sabe? Save your breath.” 

“I don’t suppose you have a suggestion for us being on foot?” John raised a brow behind his mask, Tonto turned around and looked him in the eye. 

“Born with legs, why not use them?” the tracker shrugged as he resumed to keep vigilant of their surroundings. 

“Point taken,” the ranger then nodded. 

The rest of the way was more quiet save for the sounds of hares nibbling brush and bluebirds perching on thorny berry bushes, mustang herds whinnying over dune hills and their hooves thundering over sandstone tors peeking through the wind-whipping sandbanks. Horses of all colors, shapes and breeds flew alike mixed colors of the rainbow into the nearby canyons where none but those of Tonto’s tribe dared to venture. 

John felt a little silly for trying to make conversation or asking questions about a place he hardly knew aside from wondrous accounts made by travelers who came back east and published novels of the savage lands out west, very few pages touching upon the Indigenous peoples who inhabited these vast, sprawling lands. He also felt small, miniscule compared to the world which lay beyond his eastern city, law books and small time crooks, there was a whole continent untamed and wild as the people who cared not to change with the times pressing forward into the new ages of Civilized advancement. But there too were small pleasures of the seemingly isolated country of lawlessness; men held their families before their tribe, each person had their purposes and functions down to the elder and child, they cared more for the land and animals than themselves. 

The title ‘Nobel Savage’ was only a tiny thread upon the woven tapestry which made a native tribe who they were and the legends of their ideal selves. John pulled back as a small band of braves rode forward to welcome them both back into their settlement. By this time the sun settled six hours from sundown, making their shadows squat and imprinted by Silver’s hooves, Tonto dismounted first and John second. The place of current encampment was near a creek surrounded by waxy juniper trees heavy with blue powdered berries and standing cottonwood trees leaning slightly toward the creek’s edge, the pale green leaves slapping against each other in the breeze and cotton seeds floating about the playful wind. 

As embarrassing as it was to mention, John knew very little about Tonto and his crimson-painted home. 

In the indecipherable language, the two were ushered into a teepee, various foods in earthenware laid out before them, neither said a word as they dove in and ate heartily, both drinking from the same jar of spring water as they did. Once done, the two were herded out to the creek most covered by cottonwood saplings and a wall of tumbleweed, John did by example as Tonto undressed down to his breechcloth and slipped into the pool. 

“Is there a place I can-” John turned about with this folded clothing, but set them down where he stood, he shakily waddled in and sat at the deepest end until the clear water lapped at his chin. 

Tonto proceeded to rub his face, the paint washing away slowly, the crow and bandanna no longer in view as he dipped himself into the water, emerged with a splash and just as suddenly submerged himself. The pool became still, almost as if John was there alone, he gulped as panic overtook him, he stood up, but nearly fell back as Tonto also flew up. The tracker proceeded to wring his hair and rub his arms until the grit revealed his natural skin, he wiggled his nose and scratched his side. 

“The land really is good enough for us,” John chuckled, Tonto seemed as if to float across the shallow pool until they were only separated by John’s height, he asked, “Everyone is gone, your tribe is saved; what next?” 

“My journey is over-” Tonto smiled, he was indeed different without the paint, John much preferred him this way, “Back to sheriff business.” 

With their clothes taken to be washed, they both knelt back in the water as once again the sun began to drop ever so reluctantly behind a puff of rain clouds. John scooted himself close, his hands cradling his companion’s neck and face as he held their foreheads together, Tonto’s own palms resting on the flexed biceps, the silence was all that was needed to answer what came in the moment of the land’s hushed peace, the warmth of day and their own mingling as they felt the need to part but could not. 

If what they felt was not deeper than friendship, then it must have been something more.

**Author's Note:**

> I wish there was a note to be written here, but zilch :3


End file.
